


“Brother? He looks nothing like you?” “It’s the hair isn’t it? Pink sheep of the family.”

by Chandelier_s_Notebook



Series: Dangerous Pink [8]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Music, Sword Fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29517102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chandelier_s_Notebook/pseuds/Chandelier_s_Notebook
Summary: Techno brings Tubbo to Port one weekend because he was forced to. It's fine, they have fun.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu & Technoblade, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Series: Dangerous Pink [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168250
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	“Brother? He looks nothing like you?” “It’s the hair isn’t it? Pink sheep of the family.”

One day the twins would need to learn how to trade in Port.

Their parents took one look at their pink haired son hanging up his sword and scabbard on the edge of the cart, and sent the brunet to grab his uke for the journey. Sending the blond to help his father out in the fields.

* * *

On the morning’s ride to Port the two brother talk. They don’t get to do that often. Just talk. The older ever the hard worker at all hours of the day. The younger spending every moment with his twin.

The brunet liked talking with his older brother because he could just talk. He could just talk on and on and on. Rambling about anything and everything that comes to mind. He likes it. He likes not getting interrupted every second for his twin to add his two cents. He doesn’t mind when his twin does that. Truly. But it’s nice to just talk for a bit.

And his brother is so nice about it. It really seems like he listens. And even when he spaces out, he can still pick up his side of the conversation whenever he leaves some empty silence.

His brother only talks when he takes a breath. When he pauses. When he leaves room for him to add something. And he doesn’t look like he wants to add much. He seems content with just listening to his baby bro talk.

It’s really weird. His brothers are two ends of the spectrum when it comes to him talking.

Of course during the trip, the pinket takes time to explain the basics of Port. How they have five sellers that they trade with. How they have to do some manual labour to get the stock onto the boats.

The boy listens. He absorbs. He’s excited to learn. He’s excited to be around his brother whom he loves dearly.

When the brother’s disembark from the cart, he leaves his uke with the sword, and jumps down to the docks. He stands a foot behind his brother as he talks to the man in front of them.

He’s not listening, he’s become enraptured by the boats. His brother had to tap his arm to get him to move and start loading stock onto side boat.

They go from seller to seller all afternoon. Loading the boats, unloading the cart. His body starts to hurt from all the moving. He gets now why his brother is so strong. And he moves everything around the farm as well. Maybe he’d offer to help in the future.

The boy had brought extra food for them, but they had eaten it at lunch, and he was hungry again. He told his brother as much.

They maneuvered the horses to the stables where they would stay the night. Wheeling the cart into a corner. “Grab your uke,” the pinket told him. Putting on his red coat with a flourish, attaching his scabbard above it.

They walked through Port, stopping at a sandwich place to grab a bite. Then wandering through the market. That’s when he heard the music. The hum of a guitar.

On whipped his head to his brother, question in his eyes. Once he got the nod he was off. Running passed the colourful stalls. Mesmerized by the music, he stopped a couple feet away.

The guy started singing. He had a really nice voice. And the fresh bread smell filling the air was calming.

_Oh, I love this little street corner._

He didn’t notice his brother until he heard the sound of coins dropping onto each other.

When the guy was finished his song he looked at them. “Hello friend smile.”

“You know him?”

“Yeah.” His brother addressed the guy, “You don’t mind looked after him for a little bit?”

“Not at all. I love an audience.”

“But do you mind looking after him?” he repeated.

The guy looked confused for a few seconds. Glanced between him and his brother, before nodding his head. “Nah, I won’t mind looking after him for a bit.” Questions obvious, but not asked.

“Cool.” His brother ruffled a hand though his hair. “I’m going to the store over there,” he said before walking in the direction of the bread smell.

The musician takes in the timid boy left in his charge. “You know any songs?” Gesturing to the uke held at his side.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna play me something?” he probs.

“Sure!” He starts to play a couple chord. Building confidence until he’s full out jamming and singing along with the dumb lyrics Tommy came up with on the fly that one time.

* * *

The pinket walks right up to the counter of the Sweet Shoppe & Bakery. He orders a baguette, startling the dancer working quietly away at her homework.

“Hello to you too.” She went about grabbing the order item for him. “Full or half?”

“Full. I gotta share with my little brother outside.”

“Your little brother? I didn’t know you had a little brother.”

“Have. He’s still alive.” He leans back to look out the window. Just to check. He trusts the musician outside, but he doesn’t really know him does he? “Hey, so your mother said that she wouldn’t mind if I took up the share room right?”

“She did say that.” The dancer slides over the bread. “Why?”

“The place I normally stay won’t be too happy with him running around. You sure your mother won’t mind.”

“She won’t mind at all. She loves you.”

“She likes me,” he said with a smile, dropping the amount of coin necessary on the counter. “If she loved me she’d have nothing left to give to the kid.”

The dancer smiles, going into the back. “You fight tonight?”

“Dueling. And yes. I’d rather him here alone than at the hole the in wall I normally stay in.”

“Mom truly won’t mind,” she says handing over a key. “It opens the back. And I think you should give him the option to come with you.” She also looks out the window at the two string players. “He seems older than when you first went to the club.”

“Heh, Bandana tell you somethin’?”

“Maybe.”

He clipped the key to the leather cord hidden beneath his shirt sleeve. “I will, but he might not want to. Now the other one? I wouldn’t even ask him. I’d prepare myself to be holdin’ him back from jumping into the ring.”

She covered her mouth to hide her giggling, turning to help he next customer that had just walked in.

* * *

He was having fun with the street musician, when he brother put some bread in his peripherical vision. He snatched the food and chomped on it happily.

“I’m off to the club. Doing some dueling. I don’t know id you wanted to come wi-”

“Of course I do! You’ve been taking home a sword for years and I’ve never seen you use it.”

“You don’t practice?” the Port-born asked, taking the offered carbs.

“I’m a little busy.”

“But you’re so good! Imagine how god you’d be if you practiced.”

"I come every week. That’s practice right?”

He walks between his brother and the musician. The musician doesn’t spar, but he likes to watch. And his brother seemed calmer when he offered. And to be honest, he felt safer with him.

People kept talking to his brother. He had different ways of interacting with each of them. Some got a few words. Some got a nod. Some got nothing at all. Some got the promise of a duel later on in the night, but that was like one guy.

He gets a couple of looks. But if the musician’s disbelief at his brother not practicing (ever. period) then he should have expected it.

He sat with the musician in the front row of the bleachers.

He was glad for the musician. He would have felt so lost and alone in his crowd if he didn’t have someone. And now that he thinks about it, he probably wouldn’t see his brother fight either. He’d be stuck to his side making sure nothing happened to him. If the way he kept glancing back at the two of them said anything.

He kept getting dragged into conversations, duels, interactions. Clearly not wanting to be there, but too polite to rip himself away from the conversation.

He couldn’t decide whether to sit back in awe, or lean forward and pay attention to his brother’s every move. His brother was good, really good. He won every battle he took part in. And unlike everything else, everyone he fought against was still in good spirts when they lost.

Well there was one guy. But after a rematch that was over in three moves, he admitted defeat.

The only other person that people seemed to not mind losing to had a bright green tunic.

It’s like everyone expected to lose to these two. Like they just wanted to say that they fought them.

“Tired yet?” his brother asks, coming up before him.

“Now that I think about.”

“Well. I’m gonna regret this. You wanna go for a round?”

He lit up. “Yes! But who would I fight against?”

“Me of course. Don’t rust anyone else here?”

“Hey, what about me?”

“You are not sparing my little brother Sandy.” His brother turned to the new voice.

“Brother? He looks nothing like you?”

“It’s the hair isn’t it?” he asks jokingly. “He’s the pink sheep of the family.”

“Do you want to be able to one up your twin, kid?”


End file.
